Making it Through:

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This was no ordinary day. The sky had taken a turn for the worst. The rain pushed us to our limit. I tried to stay indoors but I couldn’t help but be struck with awe and madness.

I stared at the storm, the trees crashed to the ground. The clouds thickened. Powerlines swayed, pedestrians dashed home. The willow tree seemed to dance through it all. As if it wept for us.

And we needed interceeding. Boy did we need it.

My neighbor Ms. McKenney banged and banged on the door. Without an answer, she walked in screaming do something…

Frantically I grabbed the first thing I saw. It was my grandmother’s brand new bath towels. She’d just come home and bragged, what a sale she’d made off with her pink and white set of 100% all cotton towels.

At that moment she mumbled that those pink and white towels were at the top her list. Living in a household with six grandkids and four adults. And every day she’d get in the tub only to discover she had not a towel to dry off with.

She paraded those towels off like garments fit for a king.  Afterwhile she’d left those brand new towels resting on the arm of the couch as she made her way to her room.

While she was upstairs resting. Little did she know, I’d dashed through storm across the road to where the crowd gathered around a little boy who had been shot in the head. With all my might I held his head with those towels. I pressed and pressed until EMT’s arrived.

I’ve probably missed my calling as a first responder or something, seeing how people seemed to find little ole me.

Anyhow…I came home with bloody towels, covered in cold blood from the waist down. My grandmom came back down when she noticed.

Grandmom: what happened now- I turned my back for one minute…

Me: Grandmom I had to, he was bleeding out.

Grandmom: But not my pink and white towels no.
I just bought those pink and white towels. Not another word. You could have used anything. I got old sheets and old clothes but oh no…

Me: Well I think he’s gonna make it. I grabbed the first thing I saw.

The next day grandma picks up the newspaper Hey Krissy, he made it. He made it.
And you owe me some bath towels, little girl.

We both smiled .~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley (true stories from my childhood)

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Published by: Visionariekind

Krissy Mosley is a story-teller. Recalling history to build bridges of peace. A folklorist to bring sounds of joy and healing vibrations. Krissy Marie is a writer /feminist, mother advocating for change surrounding women’s rights and women's’ issues.

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